


Tribulation

by oatsnhoney



Series: Tranquility and Tribulation [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blankets, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fever, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forehead Kisses, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, Hyrule Castle, Kingdom of Hyrule, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Post-Breath of the Wild, Post-Calamity Ganon, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Sick Character, Sick Link (Legend of Zelda), Sickfic, Trust Issues, Two Shot, Vomiting, btw link can sign, but he also talks most the time??, chapter two of smth, idk i just add unnecessary things, link needs to take better care of himself smh, mostly about favorite foods haha, pre-calamity ganon scene that's rlly cute, soft, these kids are so damaged, u don't have to read the first one but there's a bit of context, zelda is so good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21974929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oatsnhoney/pseuds/oatsnhoney
Summary: He wants to shake his head in protest at the wet, sorrowful glimmering in her eyes. “Why can’t you just ask someone for help?”“Please,” She slowly sinks down on him, pressing her head into his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him, “Just talk to me. Be open with me.”---A continuation of a supposed one-shot, where Link is sick and it results in the saviors of Hyrule unpacking some emotional damage and snuggling in between.
Relationships: Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Tranquility and Tribulation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1378687
Comments: 9
Kudos: 215





	Tribulation

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii :>>>  
> this is a continuation of a one-shot i posted a long time ago -- this has been floating around in my head ever since, and i actually hinted at this happening when i posted that thingy  
> i'm sorry that it's taken so long for me to update and finish anything! but hopefully u enjoy this regardless!

When she awakens, Zelda is tangled up in soaked sheets. Something hangs in the room’s thick air, and the princess feels like she’s suffocating against the blistering heat. There’s distressed shifting next to her, ceaseless, troubled tosses. With worry gnawing at her stomach, and her mind denying what she already knows, Zelda turns her body towards him.

“Link…?” Her voice is hesitant, eyes scanning his scrunched up face for any sign of consciousness. She moves with an unsure hand, brushing the tense muscle of his shoulder. She nearly flinches away at the scorching temperature, but steels herself. Sitting up, her free hand supporting her body, she tries again, “Link, are you alright?” She gives his shoulder a gentle shake.

His voice rumbles in a quiet groan, eyelids twitching and brows furrowing. “Hmm?” The hum comes out raspy, cracking painfully. 

“Are you alright?” Zelda repeats, gently stroking his arm, hoping to further rouse him awake. “You’re burning up.” A suppressed, wet cough breaks from his throat, and Zelda cringes at how painful it sounds. Her insides knot with concern.

Link’s eyes open in slits, the blue a hazy cloud. “I’m alright,” he croaks out, slowly lifting his body. One elbow braced under him, he tenderly, carefully ( _ never harshly _ ) peels her hand from his arm. “I bet I just got,” His words are interrupted by a cough intended to be concealed, “hot under the covers.”

Zelda unleashes the most doubtful look she can possibly muster and levels her gaze with his own. “Mmhmm,” She drones, quickly pushing the blankets back, “And that’s why you’re shivering, right?” 

He lets out a nervous laugh, making to fully sit up. He ignores the way his vision sways and his stomach lurches. “You just pulled back the covers, it was a temperature shock,” His voice is strained and he turns away from her. He rubs his legs in an attempt to make the goose bumps disappear.

“You were always an awful liar, you know.”

“I-I wasn’t—” The knight sluggishly swings his legs over the edge of the bed, placing his feet on the cold ground. 

“Don’t even think about getting up, Link.” She warns, and he can hear the bedding rustling as she moves closer. A slender hand tugs at his own — reminiscent of his own actions from earlier in the day — and her voice turns pleading, “You’re not well. Please, lay down again.” 

He sighs, brows pressed as he worries his bottom lip (a nervous habit the other knights had so kindly pointed out). “O-Okay.” 

With gentle hands, she guides him back to her, her emerald eyes shimmering with tender concern. “Thank you,” She breathes in relief, propping some pillows against the bedframe for him.

He hums a pitiful response, gaze locked on his lap, plump lip still trapped between his teeth. 

“Stay here for a moment,” Link can practically hear the frown in her voice. Bare feet pad across the floorboards and the screech of old drawers opening echoes off the walls. After rustling through the chest, Zelda returns with a pile of clothes for Link. (She is thankful that she keeps a drawer for just his clothing.) “You’re soaked.”

He looks down at his tunic — she’s right, he realizes. With trembling, numb hands, he begins to untie the string on his tunic. Quickly, and expectedly, Zelda takes over, unraveling the tie and slipping the shirt from his torso. 

Many agonizing minutes later — every movement sends bile shooting up his throat — Link’s uniform has been exchanged for cotton sleeping clothes. Laying breathless and covered in a new sheen of sweat, his muscles scream in an all too familiar post-battle ache. 

Worry dripping from her pressed brows, Zelda hovers over him, brushing his long bangs from his face. A whoosh of air escapes her lips, a strange little sound, as if she has lost her ability to speak. She swallows thickly, fingers tentatively running through his hair, massaging his scalp (Link tries to avoid leaning into her comforting touch), before squeaking out, “So… So how long has this been going on?”

Something coils deep within Link’s stomach, wrapping around his lungs and heart — and he’s pretty sure it’s not sickness. Tired eyes darting anywhere but at Zelda, his lip finds its place between his teeth once again, easily settling into that jittery tendency. 

Ministrations coming to a halt and all apprehension falling away, Zelda purses her lips. “Link,” She warns, hints of scorn accompanying the uncomfortably common unease.

He stamps down the urge to recede into that stoic husk of blankness and silence.  _ “This is Zelda. You trust her, you love her,”  _ He reminded himself. “Um, maybe a couple of days?” It was intentionally phrased as a question — he didn’t know, really, hadn’t cared much to pay attention. 

“Link!” He flinches back, expecting but still afraid of her reaction. He curls in on himself, preparing for more outrage and shock. He deserves to be scolded, most likely.

“Sorry,” He whispers, staring at the silk bed sheets. 

With a heavy, burdened sigh, she drags her slim hands down her face. Exasperation lacing her tone, she speaks in a hushed voice, “Link.” Taking care, Zelda brushes his cheek and makes him look up at her. He wants to shake his head in protest at the wet, sorrowful glimmering in her eyes. “Why can’t you just ask someone for help?”

His jaw quivers, at a loss for words. Guilt plays in his heart, crushing any voice left into shambles. “It’s  _ okay  _ to need help. It’s  _ okay  _ to have moments of weakness, it’s  _ okay  _ to be weak. There’s no need for you to always be strong anymore, Link. There are people who want you to be happy and healthy. But you can’t do that by yourself, and we can’t help you if you don’t let us.” Distressed tears drip from her emerald eyes, and he ignores the ones threatening to fall from his own. “ _ Please, _ ” She slowly sinks down on him, pressing her head into his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him, “Just talk to me. Be open with me.”

Hot liquid cascades down his face, soaking the bed underneath him. “I’m here for you, Link.”

Shaky arms snake around her waist, and he tucks his head into the gentle crook of her neck. Link tries to ignore the stinging tears swimming in his vision, sliding off of his flushed skin; willing them away with weak blinks, to no avail. “Sorry,” He chokes, clutching her ornate dress like a lifeline. 

“Shh,” She hushes, voice strained and high, “It’s alright, love, it’s alright.” Overtaken, she kisses his cheek, the tear tracks. Gentle words -- tender whispers and mutters -- tumble from her lips as they brush against his burning skin. She runs her hands through his long hair, cradling him, as she presses her lips again to his face, the freckles that map like constellations. Soft lips meet a fever-riddled forehead, then the corners of closed eyes, tears lingering in thick eyelashes. A constricted sob escapes him, his chest hiccuping against her, and she pecks the tip of his nose, red from crying and illness. “ _ Link _ ,” she murmurs as another strangled cry resounds throughout the room. Zelda places her shaking hands on either side of his face, caressing the scarred skin with her thumbs. She kisses the spot where that single dimple resides, the counterpart to every smile. And with an unyielding love glistening with the tears in her emerald eyes, their lips lock together. 

When they break apart moments later, Zelda smiles -- a sad, tight expression -- down at him. He tries to return it with his own wobbly smile, only for his face to scrunch up painfully, sobs once again breaking from his tattered throat. Fresh tears trail down his face as Zelda pulls him to her shoulder, holding him desperately. Her words catch, and she’s left to embrace him as he cries, rocking them gently. 

His hands grip further up her back, the silk wrinkling in his grasp, as his chest aches and his heart sinks. “ _ Zelda-”  _ Wails rip past his raw throat, muffled by her shoulder. Her hand braces the back of his head as she leaves chaste kisses on searing skin. She presses her forehead to his temple, the contact leaving her kindled. In a voice wrought with emotion, she finds herself humming -- to soothe herself, too.

Days later, it seems, his weeps dwindle down into weak whimpers. Weeks later, those too vanish. Zelda lifts her head to gaze at him, finding Link’s eyes closed, chest rising in shuddering breaths. With the pads of her thumbs, she delicately swipes at the water clinging to his lashes and freckled cheeks. 

Slithering out of his iron-tight clasp, she brushes the sweat-soaked bangs from his blistering hot forehead. Eyebrows furrowing, she presses the back of her hand to his face, then his neck. _ “Poor thing, cried himself to sleep. And he’s burning up.”  _ Zelda purses her lips, heartache glinting in her half-lidded eyes. 

A knock at the door rouses her from her stupor. Resisting the urge to groan, Zelda eases herself from the bed (careful not to awaken Link). She smoothes out her horribly crinkled dress as she makes her way to the door. “Princess?” An older woman’s voice comes from the other side. 

“Y-Yes! Coming,” Zelda calls, her voice quiet. She gives her clothing one last glance before opening the door. “Yes, what is it?”

“Oh my,” The old maid’s expression is temporarily shocked as she takes in Zelda’s appearance: bed-messed hair, cheeks flushed from crying, tired gaze, a pained look harbored in her eyes, the state of her gown. Zelda gives an uncomfortable laugh, one side of her mouth quirking up awkwardly. “Your highness, pardon me for asking, but are you alright?” 

“Uh, yes! I am fine,” Zelda affirms, nodding her head, “Fit as a fiddle!” 

“Are you,” A soft sound (a snore, a whine, perhaps) comes from farther in the room, “sure?” The attendant's brows press together, and she leans to look through the doorway. 

Zelda quickly covers the visible gap with her body. “Yes, I am sure,” She emphasizes. “Is there anything else?” She smiles, aware of the lady’s attempts to see past her. 

“It’s just that you’ve been in your room all-- I mean, do you have any particular requests for dinner?” The maid shakes her head, dismissing her earlier statement.

“Actually, could I have two bowls of soup? Nothing too rich, and could we try to avoid lots of meat?” 

“Excuse me, did you say two?” The woman cocks a brow, eyes narrowing.

The princess laughs nervously, cheeks flushing.  _ “You should’ve thought this through, Zelda.”  _ “Yes, I am feeling especially hungry tonight!” 

The maid hums suspiciously, “Two bowls of soup, then.”

“Oh! And could I get two glasses of water, as well -- very parched.” She adds, tone chipper and unsuspecting.

“Would you like a glass and a pitcher, instead?”    
  


“No, two glasses, please.” Zelda tilts her head, fully aware of failure to deter the woman’s doubts. 

“Alright, two soups and two waters. Anything else? Two deserts, maybe?” 

Zelda restrains a small laugh at the jab, “That will be all, thank you.” She sends the maid off, allowing herself a sigh of relief.  _ “I’m glad that she didn’t press for explanations too much, at least.” _

She creeps back into the dim room, the foul stench of illness invading her senses. She heaves a great breath, approaching the bedside. He’s curled up now, knees tucked nearly to his chest. Each inhale is a rattling wheeze, hoarse and shallow. “Link,” She coos, sweeping her slender fingers through his matted, honey hair.  _ “Still asleep. Good.”  _

Silent as possible, Zelda lifts the lid of a chest with a creak. She cringes, but swiftly retrieves a sleeping gown. Sliding out of her rumpled, elegant dress she shimmies into the laced, translucent slip. The princess laments about the smock as she steps into the washroom, “ _ I just don’t see the need for embroidery on something that’s being worn to  _ sleep _. It’s not like anyone sees it.”  _ She thinks of Link, “ _ At least no one that cares what I wear.”  _

She snatches a small rag from the towel rack and dips it into a bucket of clean water. She shivers from the biting temperature.  _ “Perhaps I should grab some of my clothes from home.”  _ Zelda hums, wringing out the cloth,  _ “It definitely wouldn’t hurt to take a trip there.”  _ Rising to her feet, she stretches out her back, looking into the room. The figure on the bed emphasizes her point, “ _ Soon.” _

She ambles over to the bed, placing a knee on the blankets and leaning over Link. Smoothing his hair back, Zelda gingerly places the wet towel on his still boiling forehead. She bit her lip, hand lingering on his cheek.  _ “I hope his fever goes down soon.”  _ Stroking his skin lovingly, she lowers herself to the bed.  _ “He’s so stressed out, a little break would do some good. Maybe I should request some leave for this coming weekend.”  _

“Your highness?” A meek voice calls from the door, “Dinner is here.” Sighing, and with one last tender kiss, she drifts to the door. 

“Thank you,” She smiles softly, taking the tray from the maid, much younger this time. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course, milady. The soup is just as you requested -- it’s a thin poultry broth with vegetables,” The young woman informs, tilting her head towards the bowls. With a small curtsy, the servant turns away, and Zelda begins to close the door.

“Oh, and Princess?” The maid is facing her again, expression unreadable.

“Yes?” Zelda hesitates, looking over her shoulder.

“I hope you two get some rest.” Zelda’s gasp rings in the marbled hallways, her eyes widening and shoulders shooting up. If she wasn’t occupied with the food, she would be frantically fanning the fiery, embarrassed pink on her cheekbones. “That is all. Have a good evening,” The attendant’s knowing smile falls, and she retreats.

As she teeters back into the room, setting the trays on the wooden bed stand, Zelda tries to ignore the blood pumping to her face and the stinging at the tips of her ears. She takes a steadying breath.  _ “Why do I feel the need to be embarrassed,”  _ Reprimanding herself, her gaze settles on the sleeping knight, studying his features,  _ “When there’s nothing to hide.”  _

“Link,” Her voice is like a sweet lullaby as she rubs his shoulder. “Do you think you can eat something?” 

It takes a moment, but eventually Link stirs, a quiet groan as his first sign of waking. “Hmm?” He hums, her voice lulling him into consciousness. Tired eyes, puffy and red from earlier (or from sickness, too) peek open at her, hazy with fever. 

“Do you think you can eat something?” She repeats, her smile light and cautious. She stares down at the warrior, noticing the sluggish blinks that are beginning to last longer. “Link,” She whispers, and he gives a small shake of his head (followed by a grimace at the motion) to keep himself awake.

“‘Can try,” his voice is hoarse, and every vibration of his vocal chords aggravates his throat -- it feels like it’s shred into ribbons. They both cringe, Zelda pursing her lips in worry. 

She fetches the damp, now warm towel from his forehead, placing it on the carved headboard. She checks his temperature, frowning, “You still have a raging fever.” She wraps her arm around him, bracing him with the other, and soon he’s leaning against the pillows. “Goodness,” She exhales. He doesn’t ask what she’s referring to. 

“The chef made some soup,” She announces, grabbing a bowl, steam puffing from the liquid. Taking the polished spoon in her hand, she gives the food a stir, watching as the vegetables float and shift around. “Here,” Zelda gives him the bowl, her hold lasting, lest he drop it. 

“Thanks,” Link murmurs, voice scratchy. “So, wha--” The statement is interrupted by a series of wet coughs, and he brings a quaking hand up to his throat, haltingly rubbing the sore skin. 

“Are you alright?” Her brow presses in worry, as she leans towards him. Link nods, face full of discomfort. “Maybe…” She starts, hesitating. “You could, um, sign instead of talking?” It’s phrased more as a question than a suggestion. 

“Yeah, maybe,” He whispers, gazing down at the soup. Zelda can’t help the small laugh that tumbles from her lips, and when he realizes his lapse, he softly chuckles along with her. 

“Now, let’s eat,” Zelda declares, snatching the second dish from the table, “Before it gets cold.” She hastily blows on a spoonful before tasting it. “Mm,” she hums, her voice sing-song as she practically melts.

Several minutes pass in silence, both occupied with dinner. She’s sitting across from him, knees touching, watching him frown at the food. He stirs it, takes a spoonful and slowly dumps it back into the bowl, then stirs it again -- over and over. When he sighs heavily, tilting his head back to rest against the headboard, Zelda finally intervenes. “Link,” She begins, setting her half-empty bowl to the side. 

His own dish safely resting in his lap, he signs, “ _ I know, I know. _ ” He fixes his gaze on her, a small pout on his full lips, “ _ I promised that I would eat a little. _ ” Link grabs the soup again, blowing on the since chilled substance. He stares with distaste at the murky broth.

“No, that’s not what I--” Zelda shuffles forward, biting the inside of her lip. “Does your stomach really hurt that much?” She brushes his thigh, hovering near. 

He angles his head to her, cobalt eyes half-lidded and glazed over. He quirks his mouth to the side and gives his shoulders a gentle toss. “I guess,” Link glances back at the soup, and his face blanches, “Yeah,” He decides, thrusting the bowl towards her. She’s afraid he might vomit, but instead, he simply pulls the downy covers higher up his shuddering body. 

“Alright then,” She places the dishes back on the trays, her eyes briefly studying the opulently decorated metal. The princess slides closer, and she envelopes him, her arms tucked underneath his. He groans, leaning forward to place his head on her shoulder, exposed from her gown’s wide neckline. “Oh,” She breathes, blowing away the pieces of his hair tickling her skin, “Tired?” A small nod, and her face softens, a small smile peeking through her concerned demeanor. 

She pecks his mop of hair, snuggling into his warmth. “Why don’t we go to bed?” She hums, and he can feel the comforting reverberation of her chest, “Alright?” Zelda places a sloppy kiss on his forehead, making more distance between them, and Link whines at the loss of contact. It’s hard to keep his eyes open as he watches Zelda’s pleasantly pink lips curve into a perceptive smile. “C’mon,” She beckons, moving to rest her back against the headboard. Her hand pats her thigh.

“Oh,” Link exhales, and he tries not to break into a violent coughing fit. Hesitantly, he sets his head into her lap, curling up on his side. 

“I’m sorry that you’re so sick, love,” She mumbles as her fingers begin to sift through his golden locks. Her nails gently scrape against his scalp and he leans into her touch, his scarred hands clinging to her gown. Zelda examines his face: the red-rimmed eyes, swollen and tightly closed; the splattered freckles and supple lips. Sticking out her bottom lip, she proposes, “Link, darling, do you need anything? Water, or-”

He shakes his head curtly, the motion hardly detectable. “S’fine,” Link slurs, nearing the brink of sleep. Her lips curl upwards, the sweet smile lifting her solemn face. “Love you,” he whispers, cuddling into her as she twirls a tendril of honey hair. 

“I love you too, more than you can imagine,” The cherished song is natural as it reaches his ears, Zelda’s voice lilting blissfully. As the knight begins to fade from reality, he can 

faintly sense his princess adjusting the blanket around him, tucking it near his face and swaddling him in a grounding warmth. The ocean-orbed champion drifts off with fondness in his heart and his other half sorting his hair into sloppy plaits.

* * *

For the second time in the same evening, Zelda is startled awake by panicked thrashing. “Huh?” She jolts upward, met with a horrendous crack of her neck and blurry vision. Her head nearly slams back onto the headboard, but she resists. Her heart leaps as she frantically scans the room, a drowning sense of  _ wrong _ overtaking her. 

Whimpering fills her ears and she finally has the mind to look down, to the knight resting fitfully, his head on her thigh. His mop of hair spills from its clumsy braid, cascading over her leg, as he shifts continuously. She presses her hand to Link’s forehead, flinching back at the temperature.  _ “The fever has only grown worse.”  _ Zelda harbors a deep breath, cupping her own face.  _ “Maybe I could-” _

He jolts awake, his head nearly colliding with her own. “Link!” She calls as his body jerks upwards. He doesn’t answer, only throwing the thick blankets away from himself. “Link?” She tries again as his legs rapidly swing over the bed and his feet hit the floor. He lurches forward, stumbling into the wash-closet, and her heart sinks. 

By the time she’s raced over, crouching next to him, he’s already leaning over a wooden bucket. “Goddess,” Zelda’s voice, high pitched and frightened, wavers, as she scrambles to gather his hair. “I-I’m so sorry, Link, I’m so-” Her breath hitches as her shaky hands rub lopsided circles on his violently spasming back, “Sorry.” He veers forward again, a choked cry passing his lips.

Minutes of torment and dry heaving later, Link’s leaning against Zelda, both exhausted. The princess cradles him in her arms, her nimble fingers instinctively tracing familiar triangles into his warm skin. Every inhale he draws is shuddering, his arms wrapping limply around his abdomen. Zelda bites her lip, watching as his pale face scrunches in pain. 

_ She bitterly curses herself; curses the part of her that’s thankful for his trust in her -- trust to reveal pain. “How could that even cross your mind right now?!”  _

“Link,” Her voice is meek, but it still makes his muscles tense, goosebumps littering his skin. “I have to get help,” She rolls one of her shoulders, sore from supporting Link.

“N-No,” He tries, his voice even gravellier than before and less than a wheeze. A corner of his thoughts wonder if she can hear him, but his limbs are too numb and heavy to begin to sign. “Jus’ g-gimme a momen’. I’ll be fine,” Link croaks, tired eyes shifting to look up at her through thick, wet eyelashes. 

She purses her lips, her eyebrows gathering in scorn, “Absolutely  _ not _ ,” She lifts her hands from him, his loss at her ministrations clear, to show him that she’s serious. “You are  _ sick _ , Link,  _ really sick _ . And I’ll be damned if I let you die from some illness that got out of hand because you couldn’t swallow your pride and accept that I’m here and willing to help you.” 

Abruptly, she launches up and whips around to the other side of him, to see his face. He nearly falls back without her support, but braces himself with his hands. His newfound balance is almost lost at her expression -- cold hard determination. Link visibly gulps. “I refuse to lose you.” 

Zelda surges forward, enveloping him in a warm hug. His face is shoved into her shoulder, her sunflower hair tickling his nose -- he can smell the lavender and hyrule herb in it. Her hand weaves its way through his locks, her opposite arm wrapping around his waist. Link takes a shuddering breath -- and let’s his body grow lax, sinking into her embrace. His fingers fiddle absently with the hem of her slack gown. 

She mumbles something, the gentle sound of her voice relaxing, and his eyes flutter closed. He ebbs from consciousness, safe in Zelda’s arms. By the time she murmurs, “Link?” he’s too far gone.

“Are you asleep?” Zelda cranes her neck to peek at him. She smiles fondly, cherishing his placid expression. After a brief moment of contemplation, the princess decides that she’ll allow a few more minutes -- after all, it seems to be his first fitless rest. Leaning her head against his, she takes a deep breath, allowing her eyes to drift shut. “ _ Do not fall asleep, Zelda,”  _ She warns, too aware of her waning sense of waking,  _ “Lest you wake up on the washroom floor tomorrow morning with an even sicker hero.”  _

It seems the tranquil scene, much like a second of breath, is over all too soon. But the stomach churning stench calls to Zelda’s attention. She bites her lip, considering her options. No matter what, she’s going to need someone. As soon as the first needle of anxiety pricks her heart, her mind is racing --  _ “Who can I trust?”  _

In some distant corner of her mind, she recalls something.  _ “‘Oh, and princess?’”  _ her mind echoes, _ “‘I hope you two get some rest.’”  _ The maid! A murky, distorted image of the young brunette flashes before her. In her excitement, Zelda hardly notices the sleeping Link beginning to slip from her arms. “Oh!” She cries, rushing to catch him. “He must really be out,” She whispers, holding him securely once again.

The princess heaves a steadying breath, her lips pursed and quirked to the side, emerald eyes uncertain. “Link?” Naturally, she’s careful with her volume. With no answer, she’s louder than before, “Link.” 

Her persistence causes him to stir, shoulders twitching and eyelids fluttering. “Mm?” Link croaks painfully, “Zel’a?” His ocean orbs are hardly revealed for a fleeting moment, before fully disappearing as he hisses at the dim candle light. 

“Yeah. I’m going to move you okay? Against the wall-” She’s informing, but it seems he’s already gone again, his chin to his chest. Briefly, Zelda stretches her legs, her grip on him tight, but not harmful. She tucks her hands underneath his armpits and hoists him upward, urgently pulling his limp body forward and to the tiled walls. After easing Link down, his back against the wall, Zelda straightens her body.  _ “ _ That wasn’t so hard _ ,”  _ She groans, straightening her back, “Maybe I’ve gotten stronger.” Another thought occurs to her, “ _ Or maybe he’s just gotten lighter.”  _ She desperately shakes it from her head. 

_ “There’s more important things to worry about,” _ She reminds herself.  _ “So, the maid, how should I get to her, and- Zelda, what could be more important?”  _ Her mind cries, tears of frustration stinging her eyes, “ _ Focus, Zelda. If you do this, that can be helped too.”  _ With a laborious breath, she begins to pace the small room, her bare feet slapping against the ground as a plan comes to inception.

Before anything, the princess lugs one of the massive extra blankets from the bed over to her sleeping night, draping it over his shivering body. With one last check of his temperature ( _ “It’s getting worse.” _ ) she whispers, “I’ll be back soon, Link.” As expected, he doesn’t respond outside of shallow, quivering breaths.

With a borrowed cloak, belonging to none other than her restless champion, and a flickering candle, Zelda sneaks from the chambers, cautiously slipping through the grand, hand engraved doors. Her face illuminated by the small light, the princess deftly avoids the knights on patrol, their tight schedules burned into her memory. A small smile paints her face as she navigates the halls, reminded of times from Before. 

_ (A calloused, warm hand pulling on her own too well protected hand. Her incessant giggles echoing off the imposingly glorious walls as his gentle voice tries and fails to hush her.) _

Zelda clips a right, eyes shifting to each side. Despite the nervousness racing through her heart, she recalls her memories with fondness.

_ (She looks up at the lanterns, strewn from building to building, mouth agape and eyes bright. She turns to face him, and her smile only growing wider as she watches his stoic facade melt away under the glow of the stars, moon, and festivities.) _

Zelda’s almost there, just past the kitchen and dining hall, then down a short staircase. She gulps, small goosebumps littering her flesh -- the castle is colder at night, especially towards the west wing. 

_ (It’s her first festival held by the townsfolk. Her father hadn’t orchestrated this; it was all of these people before her. If she were honest with herself, she wouldn’t hesitate to say that she preferred the lively, but yet homely, atmosphere over the chaos of the royal events. The smells of home-baked goods and flower petals sprinkled on the ground were more appealing than the smells of gunpowder and sweaty men.) _

Steeling herself, the princess takes her first step down the tight corridor, towards the maids’ quarters. She waves the candle around, hoping to brighten the black hallway. 

_ (She asks him the day before -- “Could you take me there? To the festival?” She had heard word of it floating about the women that always tended to her bedroom. At first, he looks awestruck, but then his expression hardens. Before he can voice his opposition, she blurts, “Listen, I know it breaks protocol and code, but I’ve never been to one… Nothing like this. I just want to feel what it’s like to be… part of my people. To be normal, I suppose.” He can’t say no to her pleading eyes, or the genuinity to her words. Later that day, he’s sure to purchase her some ordinary clothing.) _

Zelda considers herself fortunate for the roster tacked to the wall. It has every name and every corresponding shift. And room. Racking her brain for the maid’s name, Zelda frantically scans the list. 

_ (The night of the festival -- The People’s Festival was its name -- Zelda waits anxiously for his signal, clad in her common garb and the braid he had hastily done for her earlier. As the time teeters towards 1:00, his knuckles rap on her bedroom door. She launches for the door, but waits for the seventh knock, following a pattern they had designed. He cracks the door open for her, and she slips into the darkness with him, creeping down the castle hallways.) _

After finding the girl’s name, thank Hylia, Zelda tiptoes towards her room, Link’s cloak billowing behind her. Standing outside the door, she bites her lip. “ _ Is this the right choice? _ ” 

_ (She’s not surprised when the first thing he pulls her to is a food stand. Apple pie -- his favorite. She smiles warmly, the scent of cinnamon and apples wafting towards her. Only after he’s leading them somewhere else does she realize that he paid, and that there is only one. But he offers her a fork, anyway. As she takes the first bite, followed by him, and then her again, she momentarily wonders if he’s bothered by this. She lightly huffs, feeling funny in the face -- but she notices the small pink to his freckled cheeks. She takes another bite of the delicious, home-baked dessert, and subconsciously knows that it’ll forever be a reminder of  _ him.  _ No wonder it’s his favorite, she muses to herself. Suddenly, he holds up his finger, handing her the treat and disappearing into the crowd. She’s stranded, but feels no alarm, only a peculiar sense of nostalgia and magical excitement washing over her.) _

Creaking the door open, Zelda glares into the room. It’s chock full of women and girls, extra futons placed on the ground, even one or two sleeping on the floor. The princess shuffles in, keeping the door cracked. She makes her way around the room, hoping to find the one she’s searching for. 

_ (He emerges from a flock of people, expertly dodging the streams of festival-goers to reach her. She smiles at him, and he grins back, like a little kid -- she stamps the butterflies in her stomach and grounds the soaring of her heart. He thrusts a dish towards her. It’s  _ her _ favorite. Fruit cake. The exquisitely decorated slice is topped with fresh fruit, maybe from a personal garden, and encircled by a variety of flowers. In the middle sits a fully blossomed silent princess. She doesn’t think about how the plant is rare or endangered, only left to admire the beauty of the arrangement. Unbeknownst to her, tears begin to collect in the corners of her emerald eyes. He fumbles, frantically trying to make things better. He wonders if he overstepped his boundaries. After a moment, she smiles at him, softly reassuring that he did nothing wrong. “It reminds me of my mother.”) _

At last, Zelda stumbles upon her, sprawled out on a futon, tangled in a threadbare blanket. She makes a note: better staff housing. She allows the candle to soak the girl’s young face in light. Her eyelids twitch, and hesitantly Zelda breathes her name.

_ (The sun is peeking over the horizon when they are entering the castle gardens. She laughs jovially, and she prides herself at his small, unsure chuckles.  _ It’s something.  _ Her braid sways in the morning breeze, the flowers from the cake -- and from a small bouquet he insists he didn’t buy -- woven remarkably into her sunflower hair. She tells him that he should do her hair everyday. “Why are you so good at it anyway? I mean, you don’t even do your hair up this nice. Sometimes you look like a dirty toddler who’s been running around on the streets, no offense.”  _

_ He giggles lightly, before a soft smile highlights his features -- the single dimple she hadn’t noticed before. He tells her it’s because he has to do his younger sister’s hair. Or, he used to have to, before he became her personal guard. She can’t help but feel guilty as he continues. “I don’t see her often, but she always asks me to do her hair when I do. So, I want to be better every time.”) _

The girl jolts awake, launching upwards. “Who’s there?!” She screeches, and Zelda is quick to clamp her palm over the maid’s mouth. After recognition flashes in her eyes, Zelda lowers her hand. “Princess?” She gawks, mouth agape. 

“I need you to help me,” Zelda hisses, tone urgent. This needs to be quick. 

“Wha-What would you need my help with-” Panic flashes on her face, and she abruptly changes her statement’s direction, “I mean, how can I be of service, Your Majesty?”

“Come outside,” Zelda says, standing. She slips from the room, leaving the girl to clamber out of bed. 

_ (As they approach the edge of the garden, and the entrance to the castle itself, a figure stands imposingly before them. He’s a distance away, but his anger is clear. They get closer and her laughter dies and his face turns white as a sheet. It’s the king. It’s her father. “Oh Hylia,” Her knight breathes, sick to his stomach.  _

_ She murmurs something, a nervous rambling, as they stop in their tracks. Clenching her fists, she turns to him, eyes set with determination. “Whatever happens,” She exclaims, “Thank you for this! I will never forget it. Thank you, Link.” _

_ He swallows, soft cheeks those mysterious shade of pink again -- are his ears pink too? -- and gives her a shaky smile. “Anytime,  _ Zelda. _ ”) _

Zelda wishes the cherished memory could last longer, take her away from reality, but as she and the maid drag heavy buckets of frigid water through the corridor, the situation washes over her. Emotions come in waves, crests of anxiety —  _ “Is he okay? Goddess, please let him be okay.”  _ — followed by troughs of frantic reassurance —  _ “He’ll be okay. He  _ is  _ okay.”  _

The princess if fully aware of how she’s leaving a sopping trail behind her, the water sloshing over the edge in her frenzy to return to him. She can hear the maid’s sharp footsteps falling behind, but she heads no mind as she rushes forward, ignoring the pulling of her muscles at the heavy weight. She wills her body to move, despite the exhaustion seeping into her bones. 

As the grand doors of her bedroom become visible, her heart thuds erratically, and she nearly ceases to breath as she surges forward, a deep coil of anxiety springing from her gut. The blood pumping in her ears becomes overwhelming as she draws nearer. Clumsily, she slams her hip into the door, launching it open. It collides with the wall, a clatter resulting throughout the corridor. At this point, Zelda doesn’t care if the entire castle is awakened, or if the guards come rushing to her quarters wielding brandished blades. Just as long as she gets to see him. 

She drags the buckets of water along with her, almost half of their contents already soaking her overly ornate sleeping slip. She swallows thickly, tripping on her own breath as she crosses the threshold into the washroom. Her bare feet touch the ice-cold stone and her lungs suddenly feel desperate for oxygen. With little grace -- unfit for a princess -- Zelda lets the handles of the water buckets slip from her hands. 

She drops to her knees, shuffling towards Link, snatching a withering candlestick. She finds herself stumbling over a thick blanket, and as she uses the light’s flickering glow, Zelda finds Link tangled up in the bulky comforter, slumped against the wall. Carefully, she sets the light on the ground and crawls forward to grab his arm and begin rousing him awake. For a moment, she is frozen staring at him, and the way his eyebrows are pressed together and how the dying light casts strange shadows on his face. 

“Princess?” The maid enters the room, her meak voice breaking Zelda from her daze. For a reason Zelda can’t place, she finds herself gripping Link’s arm more firmly -- almost protectively -- as she glances over her shoulder. The girl has placed her own pails on the ground, and she uncomfortably wrings her hands, eyes flitting about the dim room. They land on Zelda, and past her, Link. Her expression draws together in an emotion akin to pity, and she can’t help the comment that slips, “He looks quite ill.” It’s shortly followed by a gasp and rushed apologies, but Zelda doesn’t think much about it as she looks back at him.

She purses her lips, heart constricting painfully, as she responds quietly, “Yes.” She runs her hand across her haggard face, releasing a sigh deep from her chest. Tenderly, she adjusts the blanket around her knight, before nimbly rising and facing the maid. “Let’s get started.” 

Together, Zelda and the maid manage to successfully heat the water and empty the buckets into the linen-lined washbasin. Quickly, the princess tosses in various herbal salts, followed by a thick liquid with a rich scent. The maid watches as it swirls in the water, creating small suds. She glances upwards, only to find Zelda staring intently at her. The girl stammers, body tensing with nervousness.

“Thank you,” Zelda ducks her head, expression worn but grateful. “I couldn’t have done this by myself.” Her piercing emerald eyes meet the maid’s, and the dark rings underneath them become increasingly apparent. “I’ll insure that you’re rewarded.” 

“Oh--! That’s unnecessary, your highne--” She begins, only to find that the princess has already turned away, looking towards her knight. The girl smiles dismally, before softly closing the chamber’s doors and disappearing down the dark hallway.

“Link?” Zelda tries, to no avail. “Link, please wake up.” Gently, she grasps his shoulder, causing him to stir. She inches closer, studying his face as it scrunches up. “Are you--?” His hand comes up to unsteadily rub at his eye.

“Hey.” She catches a glimpse of cobalt blue, flashing from between thick eyelashes. With a small shiver, shimming deeper into the blanket, he looks up at her, wearing a small grin.

Zelda heaves a sigh of relief, her shoulders falling as she rests her face on her palm. “How do you always manage to scare me?” He chuckles softly, weakly, before his hand moves to rest on her side. He rests his head against the wall, eyes falling closed. “Hey now,” Zelda speaks lowly, fingers tapping his warm cheek, “I drew you a bath, and then we can go back to bed.” 

He hums drowsily, “That was nice of you, Zel.” 

Tucking her hands underneath his arms, she laughs, “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not. And…,” She hoists him onto his feet, “Up we go.” He giggles lightly as she guides him over to the beautifully carved washbasin and begins peeling off his soaked nightclothes. Bracing him, she helps him climb into the tub, watching as he sinks into the warm water, tension evaporating. 

“Mm,” He exhales, soothed by the feeling of Zelda running her fingers through his hair. She smiles tenderly, pouring water over his head. 

“Your hair is so unbelievably tangled,” She states matter-of-factly, combing soap through the honey tendrils. She purses her lips, carefully working on a particularly stubborn knot. After finding success in her task, Zelda cups water into her hands and rinses Link’s hair of the suds. He gasps, and she looks at him curiously. Narrowing her eyes, a sly smile on her face, she sniggers, “You were falling asleep, weren’t you?” 

He looks up at her, embarrassed, a small cough exhibiting his surprise, “P-possibly.” Zelda laughs softly, her soapy hand concealing her mouth, only for her to chuckle loudly moments later. Link pouts at her indignantly, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Sorry,” Traces of amusement still accentuate her speech, but Link sighs, letting it go as their usual playful banter. “All done,” She pats his head, retrieving a towel from next to her. She gingerly dries his hair, then hands it off to him. “I’m going to fetch you some clean clothing. Will you be fine alone for a moment?” He nods, and she disappears from the washroom. 

She returns moments later with a fresh set of night linens, which he promptly changes into to ward off the cold pricking at his skin. As he finishes dressing, Link watches Zelda tug the cumbersome comforter back into the bedroom. He shuffles out to the quarters, approaching Zelda quietly from behind. Raising his hands, he reaches out to scare her, only for her to whip around violently. 

“Oh!” Both of their eyes widen, before he chuckles, his arms dropping back to his sides. Zelda quirks a brow, smiling inquisitively, “Now, what were you doing?” 

“Hmm,” He hums, cupping his chin, lips puckered in mock-pondering, “What a very good question.” 

“Mmmhmm,” She answers, doubt at his beguilement. Zelda rolls her eyes, flicking his arm. Link yawns, prompting Zelda to latch onto his hand, pulling him towards the newly blanketed bed. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” They slink underneath the covers, and she pulls him close.

Tenderly brushing her fingers through his damp hair, she whispers quietly, “Are you feeling any better?” He nods into her shoulder, soft breath sweeping across her skin. “Mm, that’s good.” Swaddled in the snug covers and his comforting (albeit unhealthy) warmth, all of Zelda’s forgotten fatigue washes in like a tidal wave. 

And as she senses her protector, now the protected, drift off, she couldn't be more thankful for the moment. Softly kissing the top of his head, she sighs serenely, “Thank you, Link.” He doesn’t answer, already asleep, but she knows that he receives and understands her sentiment. “Thank you for trusting me. I love you, so very much.”

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading!! pls lemme know what u guys thought or what u would recommend for this story! sorry that the ending is so rushed haha, but i wanted to get it finished,,,  
> ohh, i don't think that i'll make another update for this fic, since i think it's wrapped up pretty nicely, but i do have lots of projects underway! there's something big coming and i can't wait to share it with you all! 
> 
> anyway, hope u guys all had a merry christmas and happy holidays! feel free to tell me about it in the comments! <333 ilysm


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